Chapter 3
Chapter 3
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: 1. Starting a Business Requires Products
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The result of rolling the first Orphan Gacha in a five-pull streak was all 1-Star Orphans. It was disappointing, but statistically unavoidable. Strictly speaking, though, the gacha wasn't over yet.
In gacha games, sometimes you only get the lowest tiers, and then suddenly a flashy animation appears. This process was just like that.
"Try holding this."
"Th-this one?"
"...Good. Next, touch this dough."
"Yes!"
Whoosh!
Exactly like this.
After last night, in the morning I summoned the other products, and when I handed the dough to one of them, their body gave off a very faint glow. This was a case of hitting the pity pull. More precisely, it meant I'd found a talent.
This world had tossed me in empty-handed—no status window, no solo leveling cheat ability—but as if in minimal compensation, it gave me one unique power. The ability to detect talents and aptitudes.
When a subject holds an object related to their talent or aptitude, they glow. Only I could see that light, and its intensity and shade told me the level of their talent.
"How does it feel touching the dough?"
"Soft... and fun!"
"Want to try making it into a shape?"
"Yes!"
I smiled warmly, watching the product play with the dough right away.
The dough was just ordinary wheat flour dough for making bread. Every time they fiddled with it, a faint light emanated from their body.
'Not quite 3-Star...'
Roughly 2-Star? If no talent at all was a 1-Star Orphan, then even a tiny spark of talent made it a 2-Star Orphan. And out of the five products I'd brought in, four of them were 2-Star Orphans.
Their talents varied too. The one playing with the dough now had Baking talent, while the others showed aptitude for Cooking, Farming, and Mending respectively.
Knowing their talents made things easier going forward. I just had to train them in those directions and sell them off.
"This is fun!"
"R-Really? It's my first time touching it, but it feels kinda good... hehe."
"Waaah! I cut myself with the knife!"
"Oops, be careful."
The product with Cooking talent had gotten overexcited slicing vegetables and nicked their hand. At 2-Star Orphan level, it wasn't anything impressive. Just a bit better than average?
The biggest issue, separate from having talent, was that they might hate the activity itself. Like now—if they kept cutting themselves, they might come to hate cooking.
So.
"Does it hurt a lot?"
"Y-Yes... it hurts so much."
"Don't want to hold the kitchen knife anymore?"
"Th-That's..."
"If you don't want to, you don't have to."
"Huh?"
"The Director will take care of you all. But the Director can't stay with you forever."
"Why not!?"
"This is an orphanage, and soon more kids like you will come. If kids keep coming in but no one leaves, this building will fill up, right?"
"Oh..."
"So when you grow up properly, you'll have to leave the orphanage. The Director wants you to have a way to make a living by then."
"..."
Maybe because they'd lived in the back alleys, the product called Eric nodded at words that might be a bit tough for a kid his age to grasp.
I stroked that product and smiled brightly.
"So let's work hard. Don't worry—even if you get hurt or it's tough, the Director will always be by your side."
"D-Director...!!"
"Good. Shall we try again? The Director will show you how."
"Yes!"
Perfect. Product lubrication complete.
Of course, we couldn't skip actual cooking training, so this was essential. It cost nothing, so I could say stuff like this a hundred times over.
Food ingredients and costs for cooking practice? Those were necessary investments. Cut waste, sure, but skimping on essentials would lower product quality.
Plus, talents like Cooking, Baking, Farming, and Mending were perfect for orphanage operations. Have them practice talents by making dinner, mending clothes, or tending the vegetable garden.
But amid all the excitement, one product wasn't smiling.
"..."
Laila, the eldest in this Orphan Gacha pull and the one who'd played big sister, showed no light at all.
I'd tested her with everything from my old cheap sword and magic books to dough, kitchen knives, pencils, hoes, needles and thread—pretty much all common talents—and nothing.
She was a true 1-Star Orphan with no talents.
How should I use her...?
*
Complicated.
Day five at the orphanage. Laila woke up in the now-familiar fluffy blanket with conflicted eyes.
She got out of bed, folded the blanket, woke her still-sleeping siblings, and went to the boys' room to rouse them all.
Then down to the dining hall for warm bread and soup. After washing their faces, picking out eye boogers, and checking for any hurts.
"..."
There was nothing left to do.
Just a week ago, at this hour, she'd sneak out into the back alleys, holding her breath. Scavenging trash bins without crossing gang territories, pickpocketing, sometimes begging—whatever it took for food and money.
Barely feeding her siblings and scraping by, day-to-day with no room for savings.
That had been her life.
"Look at this! I fixed this shirt! Cool, right!?"
"Pfft, still not as good as my bread."
"Last time your bread was all burnt black."
"B-But the Director said it was tasty and ate it!"
"Kids! I planted carrots, and they're already sprouting! The Director said if I fold my fingers ten times a day, I can eat them soon!"
"Yum! I'll cook them! The Director taught me carrot stew!"
"..."
Her siblings' eyes sparkled. Eyes Laila had never seen while caring for them.
Not because they hated her, or because the orphanage was comfy.
Those were the eyes of kids with dreams.
'Dreams...'
Luxuries beyond imagination in the back-alley slums.
Impossible when just surviving day by day.
But now her siblings were dreaming.
"I'm gonna be a baker! The city's best!"
"Then I'll be an even better chef!"
"I want to eat my fill from what I harvest..."
"I... I want to make clothes for us all."
They might be too small to call dreams. Their world ended at this tiny city, so "city's best baker" or "eat till my belly bursts" was the height of it.
But they were dreams nonetheless.
Ones they couldn't have in the back-alley slums.
...Dreams Laila couldn't give them.
"Laila, what are you doing?"
"...You."
"Call me Director."
This man had given them all that. As orphanage Director, no less.
It upended common sense to the point of shattering it. She'd snuck around the orphanage after, hunting for proof or traps, but there was truly nothing.
Not even a whip or club. They even gave spoons and forks at meals. Ridiculous. What if the orphans turned the forks on him?
Did he trust his skills that much, or...?
"More than that, I'm surprised. The kids ate the carrots without fuss."
"...You mean picky eating?"
"Pretty much."
"Any kid from the back alleys who picks food would be the weird one. To survive... you eat anything first."
Picky eating? What a full belly must allow that. Food you don't like existing at all.
Could you even pick when not eating meant starving? Laila inwardly mocked the Director's naivety.
But.
"Then you'll all get picky from now on."
"...What?"
"No need to eat anything anymore. I'll feed you what you want as much as possible, and you'll naturally learn what you hate. That's picky eating."
"............"
"Of course, for nutrition, you should eat a variety."
Seeing the so-called Director smile like that.
Made her chest tighten for some reason.
Laila swatted away his hand as he tried to pat her head and glared at him.
"So why won't you give me anything to do?"
"What do you mean?"
"The others all have tasks. What about me?"
"You're leading the other kids, Laila. Playing big sister—what more could I ask?"
"Not some other reason?"
The Director hesitated at her sharp words.
Back-alley survival demanded sharp instincts. Laila was sensitive to gazes and quick on the uptake.
So she noticed the different way he looked at her siblings versus her.
After a pause, the Director continued with an awkward smile.
"Honestly, I don't know what to have you do."
"What do you mean?"
"My eyes are... a bit sharp. I can sense a kid's talents just by looking. But..."
"Not me? That's why?"
Her voice carried unintended emotion. "Talent" stung.
Like saying "you're talentless, so useless," or refusing to accept it after surviving so hard.
Laila glared at the Director, eyes misty, holding back tears.
She didn't want to cry in front of this man.
"Then... you'll kick me out?"
"As if."
But the Director smiled softly at her.
And pulled out a handkerchief to wipe her teary eyes.
"The world isn't just about talent. No talent doesn't mean life's over."
"How do you know?"
"Did you care for and help the kids in the alleys because you had that 'talent'?"
"Th-That..."
Of course not. It wasn't about talent.
It was.
"Just mindset, as you know."
"..."
"That's it. No rule says only talented people succeed. I'm similar myself."
"Huh?"
"If anything, that's your talent."
"My... talent?"
"You're a kid too, so it's weird saying this, but kids that age are pretty wild, right? Leading and caring for them properly isn't easy. That's why I rely on you."
"Wh-What? Rely? On me?"
"It's an orphanage in name, but I'm the only staff. I get up early every morning to make breakfast. Then waking kids, washing them... phew, ten bodies wouldn't be enough."
"...Pathetic adult, relying on a kid like this."
"What can I do? I don't have that talent."
Why was that?
Moments ago, she'd boiled with resentment or anger, but his words strangely lifted a weight off her shoulders.
Laila glanced at the Director, replying as haughtily as she could.
"W-Well. If you rely on me that much... I could help a tiny bit."
"Reassuring. I'll lean on you plenty from now on, Laila."
"...Yeah."
The Director was still suspicious. Short life though it was, spent in back-alley hell, Laila didn't trust easily. She couldn't fully relax.
Yet she felt far more at ease than on arrival. Seeing siblings smile in their dreams ached her heart.
"Don't pat me."
"You're strict about that."
"Don't touch casually."
Laila.
Smiled, just a little, then startled herself.
She'd smiled. Let her guard down, even for a moment, in front of this man, in this orphanage.
She could hardly... believe it.